


In Color

by lovelivesinthedream



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-16 07:43:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5820016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelivesinthedream/pseuds/lovelivesinthedream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a grey world, Luhan’s always felt like an outcast for being able to see red. He’s not the only one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Color

**Author's Note:**

> originally written for deerofdawn on lj. thanks to fairyminseok for such a great prompt, to the mods for organizing the exchange, and thanks to anyone that reads!

 

 

 

 

The world is not black and white.

Well, the world is not _entirely_ black and white.

For most people it is filled with an entire monochrome spectrum that ranges from the deep, impenetrable pitch black of the night sky or the bottom of a well, all the way to the vast white nothingness of a blank page or a snow covered field. And in between are an innumerable amount of varying shades of grey: the steel shine of sunlight filtering through the curtains, or the mercury hue of hair fluttering in the breeze. Everything in the world is washed out in these neutral tones like a shadowing veil has been placed over everyone’s eyes, rendering them incapable of seeing the true beauty of their surroundings.

There are myths and legends about a time before when there were things called colors. Old, dusty books with stiff pages and worn bindings are filled with faded words about emerald treetops, cerulean oceans and violet sunsets. To anyone reading such books, the words are vague and unimaginable. Emerald, cerulean and violet might as well be untranslatable words from an alien language because they have no meaning to people. The stories are so long forgotten they’ve become the stuff of fairytales, no more believable than fire breathing dragons and unicorns that can heal.

But Luhan has always been different – he knows the world is more than that. He can see _more._

From the collection of ancient books that he’s hoarded over the years, he’s learned that what he sees are _red_ and _pink_. Red is the color of the cardinals that perch in the tree in his backyard, the blood that oozes from the scrape on his knee, the fuzzy blanket his grandmother made him and the soccer team’s jerseys. Pink is the hue of cold bitten faces during the winter, beach front sunrises in the summer, the flowers that grow around the library in spring and the princess dress his friends convinced him to wear on Halloween. (He has terrible friends.)

For as long as Luhan can remember he’s been able to see these colors. The earliest memory he has is of his mother telling him a bedtime story, tucking him under his fuzzy red blanket with careful hands while her gentle voice wove a tale of good triumphing over evil and true love saving the day. The prince and princess lived happily ever after, riding off under a dazzling rainbow, and a tiny, sleepy Luhan had asked when he’d get to see a rainbow.

_“It’s just a story, my little deer. Colors aren’t real. Don’t dwell on it, child, and sleep well.”_

When she’d closed the door behind her, the glow from his Power Ranger nightlight had bathed his room in a soft red color – though, he hadn’t known it was called that at the time. It was the first time he realized his mother wasn’t always right.

It hasn’t been easy for Luhan. When he first started school, he hadn’t realized the other kids couldn’t see the same things as him. They laughed at him and teased him, calling him dumb names that didn’t really make sense anyway. The teachers tried to stop it when they saw, but they spared him pitying looks that were almost worse. His parents were called to the school on a few occasions. Luhan would have to sit out in the hallway while the adults talked about his delusions because, obviously, he wasn’t quite right in the head since he thought the toy blocks were red. _“What is_ red _?_ ” they would whisper amongst themselves, confused and worried.

By second grade Luhan had learned to keep it to himself. It made him feel less like a freak when he just played along. His parents stopped frowning so often, the kids ceased to pick on him, and the teachers quit sending him to special sessions with the school counselor.

For years and years Luhan pretended to be a normal person, colorblind like everyone else. He flourished in high school. He grew into his pretty features that had girls and boys alike leaving notes in his locker and confessing to him under the bleachers after class. His shoulders widened as his frame thinned and lengthened, gracing him with a body toned in all the right places. He became captain of the soccer team, a lead in the school’s choir and class president. He enjoyed the popularity, but it never felt right. He was just an actor playing the part of a perfect son and student while inside he had to constantly remind himself not to let his eyes linger on the flashes of color only visible to him.

 

Which is why he quit trying so hard once he reached college. Now in his third year, he has friends that he trusts to stay by his side no matter what. He hasn’t told them that he can see their red boxers sticking out from under the bed or that they just painted the walls of their apartment pink instead of simply a lighter shade of grey as they might believe it to be, but that is more because he’s not sure how to bring it up instead of a fear of being rejected by them. Jongdae and Baekhyun are loud and full of dumb jokes, but they would never shun Luhan for being different.

Maybe it’s because he’s had a little too much to drink, or maybe it’s because he just can’t bring himself to care quite as much about hiding the truth anymore, but either way, he can’t stop staring at the new kid sitting beside Zitao on the couch that is pushed up against the back wall of the new apartment. Baekhyun had insisted on a housewarming party (which they all know is only an excuse for him to pretend to get shit-faced and shamelessly hit on Jongin _and_ Junmyeon), and now here they are, surrounded by a group of people Luhan only vaguely knows.

This kid has him intrigued, though. He’s managed to fold up his long legs enough to squeeze onto the tiny couch. His large ears stick up from artfully styled dark hair. When he laughs, it’s a bit too loud, a bit too over the top, and that alone sums up his apparent friendship with Baekhyun and Jongdae without further explanation needed. Luhan wouldn’t normally pay any attention to a guy like that, instantly writing him off as someone too exuberant for his tastes, but for as long as Luhan watches, the kid meticulously picks out all the red candy coated chocolates from the bowl on the table in front of the couch.

And that doesn’t make any sense.

For everyone else in the room each piece of candy should be identical to the next – the shades of grey are almost indiscernible, and all the pieces taste the same anyway. This kid, however, has managed to _only_ collect the red ones in the palm of his large hand, and that sparks Luhan’s interest immediately. Of course, it could be a coincidence. He knows he shouldn’t get his hopes up, but he’s felt like an outsider in his own life for so long. It would be so nice to have someone, anyone, be able to relate to him.

“I haven’t seen you around before,” he says casually when he corners the kid in the kitchen later under the guise of getting a glass of water.

“Ah, you break a guy’s lamp one time, and you’re banned for life.” The kid laughs at Luhan’s confused frown. He rubs the back of his neck and smiles awkwardly. “Sorry, it’s a long story. My name’s Park Chanyeol – I’m actually friends with all three of your roommates. I really don’t know how we’ve never met before.”

And Luhan’s not exactly impressed, not yet at least, but Chanyeol’s cheeks are a charming shade of pink, and his eyes are so wide and earnest that Luhan can’t help but grin in return. He shrugs and slides over so he’s standing beside Chanyeol, only slightly disappointed that Chanyeol’s so much taller than him.

“I’m glad we can get to know each other now.”

 

Chanyeol is an open book about almost everything. When he’s happy, he bounces around like an excited puppy. He laughs loudly and openly, never hiding his blindingly bright smile when something genuinely brings him joy. He rarely gets upset, but when he does it’s obvious. He scowls and passionately voices his displeasure at any kind of injustice that he witnesses. He’s quick to forgive as long as he believes the apology is sincere. (Junmyeon is lucky because Luhan doesn’t know if he could have forgiven his friend for spilling coffee on his laptop as easily as Chanyeol did.) He talks excessively about music, animals, science and history - anything that catches his eye for even a second is sure to be mentioned with excitement. Chanyeol is smart and funny, kind to just about everyone, and it’s surprising how easily he fits into Luhan’s life.

Luhan doesn’t ever forget what first made him take notice of Chanyeol, though. He pays close attention, gathering clues so he can be sure before he brings it up. It’s not that he thinks Chanyeol will make fun of him, but Luhan can’t help the hesitance to share his secret that’s been ingrained in him since he was small. It’s really too much to be a coincidence: most of Chanyeol’s shirts are some shade of red, his notebooks are red, the flowers he gathers up to take to his mom’s restaurant are always entirely pink, and he only eats red apples and candies. There’s no way he can choose the color each time if he couldn’t see it. It’s just not possible. And yet… Luhan’s not sure if he can ask.

  


The decision is taken out of his hands on one fateful day.

They’re eating lunch at the small café down the street from the school’s campus on a rainy afternoon when it happens. Luhan’s too busy laughing about the mustard on Chanyeol’s chin to notice the chime of the bell over the door, or the cocky strut of the guy that enters the tiny café. Unfortunately, the guy is not too busy to notice Luhan.

“Hey!” he yells, startling the two and standing entirely too close to their table. “You look awfully familiar… I know I’ve seen your face before.” Luhan tries to disagree, turning back to his food and avoiding Chanyeol’s inquisitive stare. The stranger claps in triumph. “I know! You’re the freak that was obsessed with bled or yed or whatever back in school!”

“Red,” Luhan mutters under his breath too low for the annoying guy to hear. Curse Chanyeol’s huge ears, though, because he seems to have heard just fine. His eyes widen comically as he pins Luhan in place with a glance. It’s clear that he wants to know more, and Luhan is endlessly grateful that he doesn’t ask with this intruder still listening in.

“Man, I thought you’d be locked up by now. It’s not safe for crazies like you to be out around us normal people, right?” he laughs like he’s funny. The sound grinds against Luhan’s eardrums like squealing tires.

Before he can blink, Chanyeol is standing, towering over the jerk and radiating irritation. His hands are clenched in fists at his sides. “Listen, asshole, I don’t know who you think you are, but-”

Luhan’s too distracted to pay attention to what Chanyeol says. He’s captivated by the crimson tips of Chanyeol’s ears, the angry scarlet high on his cheek bones and the plush pink of his mouth. In a world of black and white and grey, Chanyeol is a glowing flame that Luhan can’t tear his eyes from.

Thoughtlessly, he throws caution to the wind and stands, deaf to any noise around him but the deep timbre of Chanyeol’s voice. The words are indistinct in his mind, but he wants to steal them, to feel them fall from Chanyeol’s mouth and to capture them between his own lips. He wants to know what red _tastes_ like. He interrupts Chanyeol’s rant, grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him down until he’s staring at Luhan curiously, nervous but not trying to get away.

Luhan closes the distance between them with an unusual skip of his heartbeat. He’s kissed a lot of different people before, but it’s never made him feel quite like this. Like he’s stepped off a ledge, caught somewhere in the freefall, floating through the air while his stomach lurches and squirms in protest. It’s exhilarating and terrifying all at once. Chanyeol’s lips are warm and soft, slightly chapped but plump and so, so nice pressed up against his own.

And when Luhan steps back to blink up at Chanyeol, his own awestruck expression is reflected back in Chanyeol’s deep, dark brown eyes. His chestnut hair is streaked with lighter hues that Luhan doesn’t even have a name for yet. Chanyeol’s skin isn’t white or grey, but tan-ish and undefinable. The whole world around his has exploded in a cacophony of vibrant colors, and it’s all too much to take in.

“It’s okay. I’m here. We’re okay,” Chanyeol soothes him, rubbing a comforting hand up the back of Luhan’s neck. And even though Luhan has a million questions, even though he’s never been more confused, he believes Chanyeol.

They will be okay because they’re not alone anymore.  
  
---


End file.
